Irrevocable (Evan Arden 5)

No, it won’t be, but it’s necessary.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you a little better,” she says as I open the passenger door of the Camaro and take her hand to help her inside.

Felisa smiles up at me as I close the door and get in on the other side.

“Well, what do you already know?” I ask as I put the car in reverse.

“I know you were in the Marines, and I know what happened to you over there.”

“Yeah.” I lick my lips. I know there will be a certain amount of actual talking just to get where I want to be. I need to keep her focused on me and not where I’m going.

“Being a prisoner of war, captured by people who aren’t exactly following any kind of rules about your treatment…” She lets her voice trail off.

“No,” I say, my throat suddenly dry, “they didn’t.”

I merge onto the main road and head southeast.

“Can you tell me about some of it?”

“I got beat up a lot.” I laugh, and the sound is too loud in the small car.

“I’m sure you did.” She doesn’t say anything else. She only watches me and waits.

“They kept me in a hole most of the time,” I tell her. “Just a hole in the sand, tied up with the sun beating down on me.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. If I had a bullet for every time someone said those same words to me, I could take out half the city.

“That’s what I wake up thinking about in the middle of the night. I wake up thinking I’m still there.”

“A lot of people who have been in such terrible circumstances sometimes think their real lives are a dream, and they are actually still in the midst of what happened to them.”

“I know what’s real and what isn’t.”

“Of course you do.” Felisa leans forward in the seat and turns toward me. “But sometimes you might feel like what is happening now isn’t real. When you first wake up, what’s going through your head?”

“Who’s there.” The answer is too abrupt to be dishonest. It also sounds like the second part of a child’s joke.

“Who is where?” she asks.

“Who’s in the room with me,” I say. My temple starts to throb. “Who’s in the bed.”

“Who do you think is there?”

My knuckles have gone white. I’m not expecting going into so much detail, but her voice is calm and reassuring. It’s a deliberate tone on her part, but the knowledge doesn’t stop me from being affected by it.

“I’m afraid I’m alone.” I barely hear my own words. “They left me alone for days at a time. No water, no food—just the sand and the heat.”

I untwist my fingers from the steering wheel and wipe the back of my hand over my lips. It comes back damp with sweat. I let out a shaky breath and nearly miss my exit.

I need to get back in control.

“What do you do when you wake up?” Felisa asks softly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She pauses, but I don’t have a different response. “Do you go back to sleep?”